


cross wires

by lailizabeth



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 4x06 coda, Canon Compliant, Episode: s04e06 Jinx, Gen, Jealous Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Jealous Evan "Buck" Buckley, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, POV Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Pre-Relationship, are astronomical, as all works of literature should be, because it's funny for me, but they dont realize, eddie is really a bit of a dumbass in this, i think, no beta we die like my tolerance for heterosexuality after watching 4x08, sorta - Freeform, the levels of obliviousness, this quickly became christopher centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:21:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lailizabeth/pseuds/lailizabeth
Summary: "Eddie felt dumb. Whatever tension there was between him and Buck was trivial, and Eddie couldn’t even name what the matter was in the first place, so he didn’t know why they were letting it affect them, letting it affect Chris. The fact it had kept Chris from seeing Buck, who Eddie now realized was the kid’s one constant through this besides himself, was absurd.He felt a twinge of jealousy, too, before he pushed that down with force. It wasn’t Christopher’s fault that he adored Buck. The guy was hard to dislike. But Eddie couldn’t help the familiar insecurity that rose in his chest, the feeling that he wasn’t enough, would never be enough, for his son. He had to remind himself that Chris wasn’t to blame for his shit. Buck wasn’t either, so Eddie made up his mind, and decided to fix whatever was messed up between them. He could swallow his pride for the sake of that boy, and he knew Buck could too."Takes place sometime between 4x06 and 4x08
Relationships: Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Eddie Diaz/Ana Flores (mentioned), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Christopher Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley & Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Evan "Buck" Buckley/Taylor Kelly (mentioned)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 261





	cross wires

**Author's Note:**

> hello. welcome. i don't know what happens in this fic because i havent reread it and i simply do not want to look at it anymore. i wrote the majority, everything but the very last scene (which i hate), before 4x08 aired. again, i havent gone back to see if that messes anything up, but as far as i remember this should still be canon compliant. in fact, i was pleasantly surprised by the episode basically concurring with my take on the status of buck and christopher's friendship.
> 
> there are a lot of things i'd change and fix if i had the patience. it's like i'm giving you a loaf of bread half-baked. ah well, you can try and eat it anyway.

“You want to come over this week? I think Chris actually wants to play Scrabble again.”

Eddie and Buck were doing inventory on the ladder truck. It had been a slow day.

“Yeah, maybe,” Buck said, not looking up from the gear bag he was repacking. “You tell him about Ana yet?”

Eddie felt himself tense up. It was a sore subject, one he still wasn’t sure how to breach with his son. He wasn’t sure if he even should. He said as much to Buck.

“It feels like you should, man,” Buck replied, “I mean, with all the time you’ve been spending with her he’s sure to notice something-”

“I’m not spending that much time with her,” Eddie interrupted, defensive.

“Right. Just breakfast after every shift.”

“Buck, it’s been three dates.”

Buck zipped the gear bag closed and looked up at Eddie, finally. There was exasperation written across his face, and something unreadable in his eyes.

“Three dates in one week. Now, I’m obviously no expert, but I’m pretty sure that means something.”

“Means what?”

“Means… maybe you should figure out how to tell your kid.”

Buck didn’t wait for a response, just walked away, apparently deciding that Eddie could finish the inventory.

They weren’t fighting. Fighting would imply that there was anything to fight over. What Buck and Eddie were doing was something else, maybe more akin to an incredibly awkward dance – or a passive aggressive game of chess. They weren’t fighting.

It was hard to pinpoint when it started, when the tension between them began to brew, but it must have been after Buck’s parents came to town. After Eddie watched his best friend close in on himself as he learned the name of the weight he’d been carrying his whole life. Buck had walked around for a week, more if you’d been looking, with darkened eyes and cellophane smiles, shooting self-deprecating jokes at anyone who tried to help shoulder his burden, not able to share the strain on his heart this time around. But he had let Eddie be on his side when they talked about his parents, and let him go up to bat for him against that old man and woman, the opposing team Eddie had never met. It counted for something, because Buck was too rough on himself to let anyone play defense for him easily.

So it must have been after. 

Eddie was folding laundry when he started to figure it out. He was seated at the sofa, sorting through a pile of t-shirts that were either a men’s large or a size 8 in kids’, no in-between, and the TV was turned on to a local daytime news channel. (Eddie had slowly welcomed cable television back into his household, tentatively trusting that the government wasn’t tracking the buttons he pressed on the remote. Though Netflix was still the subject of heavy skepticism). The tail end of a weather report was playing, and then there was a segment about that rapper from the billboard, Izzy Chainz or something, who had to still be stinging _all_ over from the ripped-off duct tape. Apparently the publicity stunt had worked. They were showing cell phone footage of the moment he fell onto the air cushion, and then there was the 118, helping him off, the lack of duct tape leaving him completely exposed. Eddie wished that real life had censored that part the way the news station had. 

He rewinded the clip – it was weird, seeing himself on TV – and playing it back this time he noticed movement in the upper corner. Buck. He was up on the ladder, rushing to help and then collapsing in exasperation when Izzy Chainz began his freefall, and Eddie realized then that that was the day the not-fighting started.

He tried to think it through, parsing over the events of the day in his head, trying to locate the source of the tension between him and Buck. There’s a simple answer that he comes to. Eddie didn’t believe in curses, but those 24 hours _were_ undeniably exhausting. No one really got to sleep, and they barely ate, and so it stood to reason that everyone would be on edge. It made sense that they’d be stepping on each other’s toes more than usual, pushing buttons and testing nerves because they were so damn tired and hungry.

Like when Buck had given him up in front of Bobby, Hen, and Chimney while they had book club, mentioning Ana in a way that could have been an accident, a slip of the tongue, but also kind of couldn’t have been. Because what part of reading about _love languages_ made Buck think of _Ana_? 

And maybe he had it coming, since he’d just made a dumb quip at Buck, implying that Buck reading was a shocking phenomenon. Which, it wasn’t. (And really, Eddie himself hadn’t picked up a book that wasn’t written for middle schoolers in a long, long time, so he was one to talk). But it had annoyed Eddie, when Buck shrugged in an obviously insincere apology and just went back to reading his book, while the rest of the team questioned Eddie, about a woman he hadn’t even been seeing – someone he’d mentioned to Buck _once_ , relentlessly until he was saved by the bell.

Eddie supposed that’s when the tension started.

___

“Dylan said he had a playdate with Nico.” 

Christopher’s sweet voice was laced with doom.

“Did he now?” Eddie asked, stalling. He was standing in the kitchen, going through the mail, and Chris ambled toward him, looking mildly accusatory. 

“They played Pokemon, and then they went in his treehouse.”

Eddie sighed. He knew where this conversation was going.

“Were they wearing their masks?”

Chris shrugged, avoiding Eddie’s eyes. “I’m gonna take that as a no,” Eddie continued, muttering the next part more to himself than to Christopher, “And I really don’t know why their parents would let them…” He trailed off as he noticed his son’s expression. Downcast gaze and little shoulders curling in on themselves, lips pursed together to stop them from shaking. A perfect recipe for breaking Eddie’s fucking heart.

He knows the last few months have been hard on Chris. The whole year, really, but when the pandemic first hit in March and the schools shut down, everyone (everyone _reasonable,_ at least) was in the same boat. Isolated and in shock, staying home to stay safe, with no room for argument. It was even state-mandated, for a while. Now though, the lines of safety and responsibility were blurred, and people – parents, were navigating what that looked like, for themselves and for their kids. Staying physically healthy was one thing, but when you’re nine years old and it’s been months since you’ve hung out with anyone your age in person, Eddie had to imagine it could impact development. So really, he understood why the other kids had started to have playdates again. He understood why Dylan and Nico and Maggie and the rest of Chris’s friends had been seeing each other in pairs or in threes lately, and he didn’t have the energy to feel like he was better than any of the other parents for keeping his kid close.

He certainly didn’t feel like he was doing a great job, when he’d brought Chris to the verge of tears.

But Christopher wasn’t other kids. And a playdate wasn’t just a calculated risk for him, because a virus that attacks the respiratory system spelled danger for a boy whose muscles were wired differently, whose diaphragm already had a harder time than most getting air to his small lungs. Eddie remembered what his son looked like in a hospitable bed, after surgery, years ago and in a different state. Thin limbs tucked into white sheets, pale skin, and the brightest smile through it all. He was the strongest kid Eddie knew but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fucking fragile. He remembered it all the time, seared it into his head like a photograph and he didn’t let himself forget because if he did – if he let down his guard for a minute, he might end up with an updated image, and he wasn’t going to let that happen. 

If Chris ended up a little socially stunted from the lack of playdates, well.

Eddie leaned down, got level with Chris, and with one hand on his shoulder he used his other to lift that tiny chin. He could feel it trembling. Chris looked at him.

“I miss my friends,” he said, and then he started crying. 

“Oh, buddy.” Eddie pulled him into a hug, and Christopher melted into it, letting the dam break because Eddie knew he thought of himself as a big kid now, but he was nine for christ’s sake. Everyone has a breaking point. Eddie stood up with Chris in his arms, rocking him and shh-ing him like he did when he was younger. He let him just cry, because he’d seen enough breakdowns in his years of parenthood to know that this was one of that specific brand that needed to play out, with the tears as a kind of catharsis and any conversation being best suited for after they ran out.

When Chris had calmed down some, Eddie set him down on the couch, taking a seat right beside him with a comforting hand still on his back. Chris looked up at him, like he was expecting answers. Eddie did his best.

“I know you miss your friends, buddy. This year sucks, huh?”

Christopher nodded, and hiccupped with the aftermath of the minutes spent sobbing. Eddie brought a hand up to his face, wiped his tear-stained cheek with his thumb, and said, “I’m really sorry. You’ve been a real superhero about all of this, you know.”

“It’s not fair,” Chris said, and Eddie knew he was talking about the playdate inequality between him and his classmates. He knew Chris blamed him at least a little for it.

“I know it’s not. I’m sorry,” he repeated. “And I know we’ve talked about why it’s gotta be like this – why we gotta do things a little more carefully. But it’s okay to still feel upset about it, ‘cause it’s not fair.”

“When will it… get better?” 

Eddie sighed, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t know, kid,” he said honestly. “Hopefully it’s right around the corner, but for now we’re gonna have to keep being real patient.” 

Chris didn’t look particularly impressed, and Eddie swallowed before continuing. “And… we’ll figure out ways… to do things. To make it fun. I’ll tell you what, tonight you can have thirty minutes extra computer time to call your friends.”

Chris perked up at that.

“Really?”

“Really,” Eddie responded, grimacing a bit at his own idea. A familiar, mischievous smile crawled across Christopher’s face.

“What if _HILDY_ gets me?” He asked, barely able to contain his giggles.

“Not funny,” Eddie said, but his smile betrayed him. He was relieved, figured it was a good sign that Chris was back to his usual antics: making fun of dear old dad. “And you know what? HILDY won’t be able to get you…” He paused, for dramatic effect. “Not if the tickle monster gets you first.”

Christopher’s eyes went wide in understanding, but it was too late for him. Before he could react, Eddie’s hands were on his ribs, tickling his belly, and Christopher was gasping for breath between shrieks of laughter, trying to squirm away.

“Okay- Okay! Dad-” Chris managed, “Okay!”

Eventually Eddie, feeling merciful, let up. He watched as his son, his entire reason for being, recovered from the attack, regaining his breath while he grinned ear to ear. Nothing in the universe made more sense to Eddie than Christopher.

“When this is all over, you can have the best playdate in the world, okay? We’ll invite all your best friends and do _anything_ you want.”

“I’m not inviting the tickle monster.”

____

Eddie found out who he did plan to invite a few hours later.

Christopher loved to draw, and write, and sometimes he liked to tuck his feelings away into the pages of a wide ruled notebook. So when he was nervous, or sad, or way too excited about something, it wasn’t unusual for Eddie to ask for a picture. 

Chris was at that age, too, that wonderful juncture between little and grownup, where all of the imagination of a child began to meet the logic of someone older. He’d taken to drawing elaborate, Rube Goldberg-esque machines and factory blueprints for his favorite candy, and maps of made up lands that spread across multiple sheets of colored construction paper, the exact details of which were legible only to him. It was like he was figuring out how to bottle lightning, how to capture every exciting, fantastical possibility that crossed his mind and document it in two dimensions, letting him look closer at all of the working parts.

It was natural, then, that Christopher’s playdate plans would be intricate. It was as of yet a distant prospect, something that would occur in the indeterminate future, and drafting it all out with a marker in his hand was Chris’s way of making the anticipation more tangible. 

Eddie sifted through the sheets of paper scattered across the kitchen table. Chris was in his bedroom, on a video call with Ryder, his friend from school. Then, as he’d informed Eddie, he was going to use his last fifteen minutes of screen time to talk to his other friend Maggie, if she was available. Because look, Chris was a popular kid. 

‘CHRISTOPHER’S AWESOME PLAYDATE’ was written in green and purple, across the top of one page. Underneath the title was what looked like a trampoline, being jumped on by stick figures with various colored hair. And– Yup. There was a dog jumping with them. It was suspended in midair and looked suspiciously like the puppy they’d seen at the pet store when they were picking up new bedding for the hamster, the puppy Chris had _begged_ to go back and adopt for the rest of the week. Eddie would have to clarify what he meant when he said they could do ‘anything’ Chris wanted.

There were more drawings, of the figures playing video games and what vaguely looked like hide-and-seek, and of pancakes and watermelon slices, some of Christopher’s favorite foods at the moment.

Then there was a list of movies that they could watch, and a list of names, which Eddie supposed was the guest list.

He read the first name.

‘1. BUCK’

It felt like he’d swallowed something wrong.

‘2. DYLAN’

Chris always referred to Dylan as his best friend. Eddie wasn’t sure what that made Buck.

‘3. MAGGIE’

Eddie had told Christopher he could invite all of his best friends, and the first person he had thought of was Buck.

‘4. RYDER’

Buck, who even during quarantine saw Chris all the time, because he worked with Eddie. Because he was Eddie’s best friend.

‘5. DENNY’

Buck, who apparently was Christopher’s best friend too.

And yeah, now that he looked at the trampoline picture again, Eddie noticed one of the stick figures was taller than the rest, with bright yellow hair and two dots above one eye, drawn in pink.

Eddie felt dumb. Whatever tension there was between him and Buck was trivial, and Eddie couldn’t even name what the matter was in the first place, so he didn’t know why they were letting it affect them, letting it affect _Chris_. The fact it had kept Chris from seeing Buck, who Eddie now realized was the kid’s one constant through this pandemic besides himself, was absurd. 

He felt a twinge of jealousy, too, before he pushed that down with force. It wasn’t Christopher’s fault that he adored Buck. The guy was hard to dislike. But Eddie couldn’t help the familiar insecurity that rose in his chest, the feeling that he wasn’t enough, would never be enough, for his son. He had to remind himself that Chris wasn’t to blame for his shit. Buck wasn’t either, so Eddie made up his mind, and decided to fix whatever was messed up between them. He could swallow his pride for the sake of that boy, and he knew Buck could too.

He opened his phone and dialed. He would ask about Buck’s day, signal to him that things were normal, that there weren’t any hard feelings, and then he’d ask him to come over, for Christopher’s sake. 

Buck picked up after the second ring.

_“Hello?”_

“Buck. It’s Chris.”

So much for burying the lede.

 _“What happened? Is he okay?”_ Buck sounded immediately frantic and okay, Eddie could have started that better.

“He’s fine. He’s fine, he’s just…” 

_“Is he hurt?”_

“No. He’s fine, Buck,” Eddie said, with an edge that came out of nowhere. Alright, so the tension between them wasn’t going to go away as easily as he’d thought. It was unfair, and illogical, and just weird, but there was something about Buck’s concern that got under his skin. The insecurity crawled back up in his throat. Eddie could take care of his kid, thank you. 

There was a beat of silence on the other line, presumably Buck waiting for Eddie to elaborate. When he didn’t, Buck asked again, calmly, _“What happened?”_

“Uh. He was upset, earlier. With me. His friends have all started seeing each other again, in person, and I think… I don’t know. I think he feels like I’m the one stopping him. Which I am, but-”

_“But there’s a bigger picture here. You’re just trying to keep him safe.”_

“Yeah. And I think he gets that. I mean, we talked about it, so… But I don’t blame him, if he still… Blames me.”

There was a pause after that, and then, 

_“So, um… You want me to talk to him? Or…?”_

Because Buck was probably wondering why the hell Eddie was calling him. Because Eddie had forgotten where he was going with this, and to Buck it must have just sounded like he was lamenting his parenting errs, unloading his problems onto him on a Friday night. On their day off. While they were in a fight.

“No, that’s not- What are you doing tonight?”

_“Me? Uh, I’m downtown right now. I ran into Taylor earlier and she wanted to catch up, so-”_

“Taylor?”

_“Taylor Kelly. Remember her? From channel 8?”_

And yes, Eddie remembered Taylor Kelly. But he couldn’t get his mouth to catch up with his brain.

_“We’re planning on hanging out for a few hours, maybe eat dinner at the park. Why? Did Chris-”_

“You’re hanging out… With Taylor Kelly.”

_“Yes.”_

“Hanging out.”

_“Yes.”_

“With…”

_“Yeah, Eddie. Is there a problem?”_

There shouldn’t have been a problem. It was a Friday night and Buck was hanging out with Taylor Kelly. Or just Taylor, apparently, since Buck was referring to her on a first name basis – a weird thing to fixate on because of course he would. Eddie knew they’d been… familiar, after all. And maybe they would be again. Which really wasn’t any of Eddie’s business. Buck was his own adult person and he could do whatever he wanted with whoever he wanted when they were off the clock. It didn’t have anything to do with Eddie. So there shouldn’t have been a problem. It was confusing, then, what came out of Eddie’s mouth next.

“There’s kind of a problem.”

_“Uh, what?”_

“You said you’d come over sometime this week, and it’s the end of the week, and Christopher would really like to see you.” 

Eddie didn’t know what the fuck he was doing.

 _“Okay, um,”_ Buck floundered. He sounded stunned, and Eddie could imagine the way his face must be twisted in confusion, trying to figure out where all of this hostility was coming from. And really, Eddie would like to know as well. 

_“We’d_ talked _about it. Like, for a second,”_ he continued, _“But, um, we never made plans, Eds. You didn’t actually invite me.”_

“Since when have you needed an invitation before?” Eddie knew it was the wrong thing to say as he was saying it, felt the words coming out all wrong. He knew how Buck would interpret that: like Eddie had thought Buck was imposing, all those times he showed up unannounced, or let himself in with his key to their house. 

But Buck just took a deep breath, sounding more impatient than hurt, and said, _“I gotta go. Taylor’s almost here.”_

“Buck-”

_“If you, ah- If Chris wants me to come over later, I will. I can just come by after dinner. Just… text me. Bye, Eddie.”_

He hung up. Eddie felt like an idiot. He opened his messages and typed out a series of texts, sending them each before he could think too hard about it.

TO: Buck 

Sorry. Don’t know what got into me. 

TO: Buck

Stressed about Chris I guess

TO: Buck

This is me inviting you. Dinner and movies at ours tomorrow night?

A minute later, Eddie got a response.

FROM: Buck

I’ll come tonight

TO: Buck

Ok. Have fun with Taylor.

  
  


____

  
  


Later, Eddie asked Christopher about the list.

“I thought Dylan was your best friend.”

“Dylan is my best friend. Buck is my best friend _forever_. It’s different, Dad.”

____

  
  


Buck showed up around eight thirty, which was later than he usually came, but Chris had somehow drank about six glasses of chocolate milk with dinner, so Eddie knew he’d be up past his bedtime anyway.

“Hey, Buck!” Chris squealed, rushing towards the door.

“Hey, buddy.” Buck met him halfway and crouched down, catching him in a hug. “How are ya?”

“Good! Dad let me talk to my friends, and we had pizza for dinner, and now you’re here.”

“Pizza, huh?” Buck was holding Chris by the shoulders now, and they were grinning wildly at each other.

“Yup. And chocolate milk.”

“Sounds like someone is spoiling you,” Buck said, and looked up at Eddie, who had been silently watching their interaction. Buck was still smiling, and Eddie felt warm as the tension evaporated, however temporarily. Their gaze held for a moment, maybe just a millisecond too long, before Buck turned back to Christopher, who was leaning in to whisper something in his ear.

Christopher was not a great whisperer, and Eddie caught the tail end of a word that sounded suspiciously like ‘dessert.’

Buck laughed, and both of them threw a quick glance toward Eddie.

“I think we can talk him into it.”

It finally clicked for Eddie, watching them conspire against him. His best friend. His son. The two of them were friends. He knew that, of course. He’d known for ages how much the two cared about each other, how much they needed each other. But it wasn’t until right then that he realized that their relationship existed on its own, that it stood independently of _Eddie_. The thought smacked him over the head.

Buck wasn’t someone who came into Chris’s life just because Eddie put him there, he realized. Eddie had known Buck barely a week longer than Christopher had, and since that night after the earthquake, when Buck had driven the two of them home and chatted with Chris the whole way, he’d grown into both their lives simultaneously. The bonds they shared were connected, but not dependent on one another. Eddie didn’t even know how to describe it.

To Buck, Chris wasn’t just his coworker’s adorable son anymore. He wasn’t just a kid that Buck babysat sometimes, because Eddie asked him to, or a serendipitous addition to the time Buck and Eddie spent together. When Buck came over, he wasn’t coming to hang out with his friend and his friend’s son. He was coming to hang out with his friend Eddie, and his friend Christopher. 

And to Chris, Buck wasn’t just dad’s cool friend from work. Eddie scoured his vocabulary, on a futile hunt for the words to explain what Buck was to Chris. He landed, briefly, on something like ‘Uncle,’ but that felt all wrong, and it didn’t come close to encompassing what Eddie was getting at here. To Chris, Eddie’s best friend was _his Buck._ He didn’t try to articulate what that made him feel.

Christopher’s voice cut through Eddie’s thoughts.

“Let’s play… Scrabble!”

_____

They ended up in the dining room, after getting Chris to bed. The night had gone without complication. Buck had won the game of Scrabble, Christopher not far behind, and the two of them had decided that the loser (Eddie) should have to clean up the tiles while the winners picked out a movie to start. Thankfully, in all of the excitement Chris had forgotten about wanting dessert.

It felt like a standard Buckley-Diaz night. The tension between Eddie and Buck had drifted out of focus, with Chris there as a buffer, and Eddie had almost forgotten there was anything off. Until now, as they stood silently, unsure of where to go or what to say next. Eddie didn’t want to break the peace, but he figured the sooner he started acting like things were back to normal, the sooner they would be. 

And, because friends normally asked each other about their days, Eddie started with “So, how was your date?”

“Wasn’t a date.”

“No? Just going out to dinner with a woman you used to have sex with.”

“Pretty much,” Buck said, then smirked and added, “Depending on your definition of ‘used to.’”

Eddie faltered at that. 

“You slept with her?”

“What? Not, like, just now,” Buck said, looking bewildered by the accusational tone. Eddie was skeptical, and it must have shown, because Buck sighed. “No, Eddie, I did not have sex immediately before coming to hang out with a nine year old.” 

“Good.”

Buck shot Eddie a look before continuing.

“What I _meant_ was, we’re friends now but I think we still have some of that, uh, connection. Like, it’s not... off the table. You know?”

Eddie didn’t really know.

“So, what? _Are_ you gonna date her? Or just the other stuff?” He was trying to keep his voice level. Normal. He didn’t know why it wasn’t coming out that way. 

“Um-”

“I’m just trying to figure out when I’ll get the pleasure of meeting _Buck 1.0._ ”

It was venomous, and uncalled for – shitting on all of the therapy and progress and improvement Buck had made in the years since he’d known him, and Eddie felt like he was losing his fucking mind. He’d have paid good money for someone to tell him why exactly his mouth had been running like an open fire hydrant all day long, why the words weren’t even checking in with his brain before making their way into the world.

Buck stared at him, like he was trying to figure him out. That made two of them. Eddie broke his gaze in favor of examining the floor, when Buck started talking, cautiously.

“Look, Eds. I- i- if you don’t want me here…”

“Buck.” 

“I mean, I can go. And you don’t have to feel pressured to invite me back just because of… of Chris.” 

Buck sounded physically pained to say it. Eddie looked up, tried to catch his eye again.

“I didn’t mean-”

“I’m not really sure…” Buck swallowed, blinked rapidly, “What’s going on, w- with us. But if you need… space, or-”

“I don’t need space.”

“Well what do you need, Eddie?” Buck threw his arms up in exasperated defeat. “Because I’m trying!”

They both glanced toward Christopher’s door, where the kid was supposed to be asleep, and Buck brought his volume low when he continued. 

“I’m trying, because I don’t like this… tension. Whatever it is. But you gotta give me something to work with, man.”

Eddie nodded, and took a breath in through his nose. And he waited, counted five extra seconds before he responded, to make sure the words that he said would be his this time.

“You’re right,” Eddie started, “I’m sorry. Again. I’ve been saying a lot of things I don’t mean.”

“I’m not that Buck anymore.” Like he was trying to convince Eddie.

“I know you’re not. I was being a jerk.”

“Is that different from usual?” Buck asked, a tint of playfulness creeping into his voice. 

Eddie rolled his eyes, fighting a smile.

“Funny,” he replied sarcastically, and this would normally be the part where he returned fire, made a harmless joke at Buck’s expense, but he figured he’d used up all of his say-mean-things-about-Buck cards for the day, joking or not. And he owed Buck the rest of this conversation.

“I don’t like how we’ve been either. Feels like there’s this conflict, even though we don’t have anything to be conflicted about.” 

“Yeah, uh. It kinda sucks,” Buck said, with a small laugh.

“It really sucks. So what do you say we drop it?”

“Consider it dropped.”

“Just so you know, though… Whatever problems we do have, ever– If you’ve got a problem with me, or I’ve got a problem with you, or we’ve both got problems with each other. When, or if, that happens, I hope you know it doesn’t change where you stand with Christopher.”

Buck was looking at him, confusion written in his expression, head tilted slightly. Eddie took a step and a half forward, just close enough to reach, and clasped a hand on his shoulder, made sure they were seeing eye to eye. He wanted Buck to understand.

“That kid… my kid… he adores you. You’re his best friend, Buck. So I never want you to think you can’t see him, or you can’t come over just because _we’re_ fighting. It wouldn’t be fair to you, or Chris.”

“Eddie…”

“Got it?”

Buck looked down, smiling softly, then back at Eddie.

“Yeah. Okay.”

Eddie let his hand slide off Buck’s shoulder.

"Good."

––––––


End file.
